


you me and all that stuff we’re so scared of

by Blacksneakers



Category: Dare Me (TV 2019), Dare Me - Megan Abbott
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacksneakers/pseuds/Blacksneakers
Summary: If they don't talk about it, then it's not a big deal.Addy and Beth, the summer before.
Relationships: Beth Cassidy/Addy Hanlon
Comments: 18
Kudos: 121





	you me and all that stuff we’re so scared of

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't exactly fit into either the show or the book; it just kind of happened.
> 
> title from "tunnel of love" by bruce springsteen

August

Addy waits for Beth outside the gym. It was raining earlier but then it stopped, leaving behind a wet, sticky haze. Addy’s sweating even though she stopped moving half an hour ago. She holds her water bottle against the back of her neck, feels the condensation drip from the plastic to her skin. She’s sweating more now than she was during practice, but she doesn’t stop waiting.

When Beth finally emerges from underneath the bleachers, she’s followed closely by a football player whose name Addy hasn’t bothered to remember. She feels a flash of irritation, but mostly she just feels relieved that Beth actually bothered to show up for her at all. That’s how it is with Beth—irritation, then relief. Beth scratches the itch that lives underneath Addy’s skin, but more often than not she’s also the reason that the itch exists in the first place.

What’s-his-face is smiling hopefully in Beth’s direction, but Addy knows he doesn’t matter. “You waiting for something, Hanlon?” Beth asks, looking directly at Addy for the first time today, like she had to get whatever she did under the bleachers out of her system before they could make eye contact. Addy understands, knows how it feels to spend an hour half-heartedly letting some boy clumsily grope his way to second base before she can stand to let Beth anywhere near her. It’s been this way for months now, the two of them skirting around each other, dangling over the edge of something Addy can’t and doesn’t want to name. She doesn’t know where they’re headed, doesn’t know if they’ll end up someplace good. Knowing Beth—knowing herself—they probably won’t.

“Let’s go,” Addy says, ignoring the question Beth asked entirely. She is waiting for something, they both are. But they won’t talk about it, just like they haven’t talked about it all summer, while every other girl on the squad seems to have paired off with some boy or other. They don’t talk about that, either. Addy doesn’t know what they do talk about.

They used to have so much to say to each other. In eighth grade, they had language arts together; their teacher made the mistake of letting them sit next to each other, and Addy vividly remembers spending most of that class whispering in Beth’s ear, or scribbling notes in the margins of her binder, desperately trying to make her laugh or smile. But even then, what they weren’t saying mattered more. Every time Addy looked over at the desk next to her, Beth was already staring. Addy could get Beth’s face to bloom bright red just by knocking their sneakers together under their desks; Addy could feel herself blush whenever Beth’s arm so much as brushed against hers.

Now, Addy feels like what they aren’t saying is the only thing that’s actually real.

They drive away from the school in Beth’s Jeep, silent except for the bratty girl rap blasting from Beth’s speakers. Addy stretches her arm out the window, feels the humidity pass over her bare skin. She catches Beth looking at her in her peripheral vision; they lock eyes and Addy almost says something, although she’s not sure what she would even say right now, but the moment ends when Beth runs a red light. The Jeep rolls through the intersection and Beth slams her palm against the dash. “Shit.”

“It’s whatever,” Addy says. “Nobody saw.”

They end up at Beth’s, soaking in the air conditioning, still not really talking. Addy’s flat on her back on the floor, idly tracing her fingers along the cool edge of Beth’s bed frame. At some point she doesn’t remember, Beth brought out a joint, and they’ve passed it back and forth enough times that Addy can feel herself relaxing, boneless and sleepy, sinking further and further into the carpet. Beth is lying on her bed, in reach but still so far away. “Why are you so far away?” Addy asks.

Beth leans over the edge of the bed to look at Addy. “What are you talking about?” 

Addy props herself up on her elbows. “You’re so far away,” she repeats, as if what she said will make more sense the second time around. Beth just looks annoyed, but that’s never really stopped Addy from doing anything before, and it doesn’t now. 

She climbs up onto the bed and lies down next to Beth. Beth raises her eyebrows and shifts away from her, and Addy waits for her to say something, anything. Finally, Beth says, “I’m not far away now.” 

Addy feels a switch flip somewhere deep inside, can hear This is it this is it this is it reverberating through her head. She notices a hickey on Beth’s collarbone; she reaches out and traces its outline with the tips of her fingers. She half expects Beth to jerk away from her touch, but she doesn’t. None of this feels real, but it’s the realest thing that’s happened all summer. 

Without saying a word, Addy moves her hand away from Beth’s collarbone and starts making her way lower. Beth closes her eyes. That makes this easier, makes it easier for Addy to roll on top of Beth and slip her knee in between Beth’s legs. She moves without thinking, peels off Beth’s sports bra and puts her mouth where the fabric was. Beth’s hands grip Addy’s hips so tightly it’s almost painful. Addy grinds down once, twice and feels more than hears the noises Beth starts to make, needy and desperate and wanting. She starts to pull off Beth’s shorts, head full of more and want and yes, but then she hears her phone start vibrating where she left it on the floor. 

Beth sits up, jostling Addy’s hands off of her waist. She’s flushed from her cheeks all the way down to her chest, and if Addy were anyone else she’d say something about how Beth is so beautiful, maybe even the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen in her life, but she’s not. Addy’s still Addy, and her phone won’t stop ringing. 

“You should get that,” Beth says, her voice so flat it’s almost impossible to imagine she’s the same person who was making those noises just two minutes again. Addy’s still frozen on top of her, but now Beth’s so, so far away again. 

Addy gets off the bed, takes the call, leaves. Two days later Beth shows up to practice with a new hickey, this time on her left shoulder. It’s not from Addy.

They don’t talk about it.


End file.
